The Northampton Play of Abraham and Isaac

THE NORTHAMPTON PLAY OF ABRAHAM AND ISAAC

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Deus.

Of all þing þer euer was I am þe begynnere,
Boþe hevenly and erthly, and of hem þat ben in hell;
At my bidding was wrought boþe goode man and synnere,
All in ioy to haue dwellid, tyl Adam to syn fell.
His vnkindnes haþe displesid me, truþe for to tell,
For many a þing made I for his ioy and daliaunce.
Whi sholde he displese me þat I loued so well,
And comaunded hym but on þing and ȝit he forfetid my pleasaunce.
But ȝit siþ he haþ displesid me, I haue made proviaunce
Þat anodre of his kynd shal plese me ayeyne,
Þe which haþe euer be my seruaunt in al manere obseruaunce:
Abraham is his name, my man þat cannot feyne,
But evyr hathe be trewe.
Herebefore he requyred me hye
To haue a childe of his body,
And I grauntid hym and haþe on redely,
Isaac ful feyre of hewe.

Of al þing erthely, I wot wel, he loueþ him best;
Now he shuld loue me moste, as reson wold and skylle,
And so I wot well he doþe, I dyd it neuer mystrest.
But ȝit, for to preue hym, þe truþe wol I fele.
Myne aungel, go to Abraham þat I loue riȝt wele,
And say þat I comaunded and charged hym aboue all þinge,
The furst dede þat he doþe, or mete ouþer mele,
To make sacrifise vnto me of Isaac his son ȝynge.

Angelus.
O, blessid Lord, I am redy at þi bidding
To do þat shal plese þe in hevyn, erþe, and helle;
For all þese owen to þe obedience aboue all þing.
Þis message vnto Abraham þi seruaunt I wol go telle.

Deus.
Then hye the þat þou were on grounde.
I do not but to assay hym,
And if he do it I wol not dismay hym;
Of his sorow I shal delay hym,
And for on childe encrese hym a þusunde.

Et vadit angelus ad terram et expectat usque dum Habraham dicit:
Abraham.
O gret God on hye þat al þe worlde madest,
And lendist vs oure leving here to do þi plesaunce,
With swete counfort of þe erþe all oure hertys gladest,
To þe be honoure, to þe be ioy and all dewe obesaunce;
And hily, Lord, I þank þe þat so makest my purviaunce
To provide or I dye a childe of myne owne body.
To reioyse þat þou gaue me in erþe to my daliaunce
And to plese þe, souereigne Lord, I shall charge hym perfitly,
Isaac, my son so dere.
I haue ben out all day:
Now shal I go home to my wif I say,
Þere shal I fynde bothe tway,
Sara and Isaac infere.

Et vadit et in eundo obruat ei angelus et dicit:
Angelus.
Abraham, Abraham!

Abraham.
Al redy, who calleþ? lo, here I am.
Who is þere, in þe hye Lordes name,
Þat al þing shope of nought?

Angelus.

I am here, a messangere
Of þat souereigne Lord entere,
Þerfore herkyn now and here
What message I haue brought.

Þe goode Lord of al hevenes hye
Comaundeþ þe to take and sacrifye
Isaac þi son þat þou louest so hertlye
To his souerenté and plesaunce blyve.
Farewele, for my message I haue þe sayde.

Habraham.
Aungel, as God wol, I am right wele payde;
For of me his wille shal neuer be withnayde
Whil I am on lyve;

And hardly, aungell, trust thereto,
For doughtles it shal be do.

Angelus.
Farewele þan, for I wol go
To bring oure Lord relacion.

Habraham.

Now, goode Lord, graunt me hert þeretylle,
Þat I may do that is thy wille:
And be my trouþe, I shal it fulfille
Without fraude outher cauelacion.

Et vadit angelus et dicit Habraham:

A goode Lord, what is now best to do?
Home to my wif I most nedis go
For þer is Isaac and I trowe she wol be ful wo,
If she know þe case.
For she haþe hym and no mo,
And if I telle her þat it is so,
Þat God wol haue hym to deþe ido,
She faileþ not of sorowes trase.

No forse, I haue levyr þat she displesid be,
Than þat God be wrothe with me.
Now doughtles I shal go and se
How prevely that I can it do.
Vndo þese yates! Hey, who is here?

Sara.

None but I and my son dere.
Welcom my lord, welcom my fere,
Welcom my counfort also.

A, ye haue walkid ferre aboute!
Howȝ haue ye fare whil ye haue be oute?
Without fayle, I haue had gret doute
Last any thinge did you grevaunce.

Habraham.

Nay, I thanke the goode Lorde,
All thing and I done wel acorde,
Saving þis: my goode Lord haþ sent me worde,
That I moste nedis go do his plesaunce:

I most do sacrifyse vpon þat hille on hye.
And þerfore, sirs, makeþ myne asse redye,
And Isaac, son, þou neuer ȝit me sye
Do no soche obseruaunce.

Þerfore aray the and go with me,
And lerne how God shuld plesid be;
For, son, and euer þou þenke to the,
Put euer God to honowraunce.

Isaac.
So shal I, fadir, and euer haue do,
As ye haue taught me and my moder also.
Loke, when euer þat ye wol go,
I shal not be behynde.

Sara.
Ye, but I pray you, gentil fere,
As euer ye haue loued me dere,
Lat Isaac abide at home here,
For I kept not he went in þe wynde.

Habraham.
Peese dame, lat be, do way.
Þou wost wele, I wax right gray,
And þis childe neuer ȝit say
How God shuld be plesid;
And þerfore now he shal go with me
And þer he shal boþe know and se
How þat God shal plesid be
And myne hert i-esid.

Sara.
Then, siþe ye wol haue forthe my childe,
Goode, loke þat his horse be not to wilde,
And sirs, wayte on hym, þat he be not defilde
With neiþer cley nor fen.
And loke wele þat his horse go rownde
And þat he stumbel not for no pownde.
Now, goode hert, God send þe home sownde,
Þi fadir and all his men!

Habraham.
Gete hidre oure horses and let vs go hen,
Boþe I and Isaac and these two men;
And loke we haue fyre and stikkes to bren!
Lepiþ vp, haue ido anon!

Sara.
All þing is redy, I you say;
But, gentil hert, I you pray,
Tary as litel while out as ye may,
Because of Isaac, my son.

Et equitat et equitando Habraham dicit:
Habraham.

Now, sirs, abide here ye two,
Takeþ here my horse and Isaac also:
For he and I most a litel farþer go
To do this sacrifyse.
And I charge you þat ye abide here in deede,
And þat ye remeve not from þis stede,
Whil Isaac and I go do this dede
To God in oure best wise.

Come hidre, Isaac, my son goode,
Take vp þis fyre and þis wode,
Spare not þi cloþes, geue me þi hode,
I shal not combre the sore.

Isaac.
Now gawe, fader, þat þis dede were hyed,
For þis wode on my bak is wel tyed.
But where is þat quyk best þat shal be sacrified—
Behynde vs, or afore?

Habraham.

Son, care not þerfore on neuer a side,
But let God alone þerwith þis tyde,
And for oure wey he shal provyde
And defend vs from fere.
A, son, I haue aspyed þe place,
Þat God haþe provided vs of his grace.
Come on, son, a riȝt goode pace
And hye vs þat we were þere.

Now Isaac, son, I may no lengre refrayne,
But I most tell þe truthe certayne,
And þerfore loke þou be not þeragayne,
But do it with all þi wille.
Þe hye God, þat all haþe wrought,
Comaunded me þat hidre þou shuldest be brought,
And here þi body shal be brouȝt to nought
Vnto sacrifise on this hille.

Lay downe þat wode on þat auter there,
And fast delyuer þe and do of þi gere.

Isaac.
Alas, gentyl fader, why put ye me in þis fere?
Haue I displesid you any thing?

Ȝif I haue trespast, I cry you mercy;
And, gentil fader, lat me not dye!
Alas, is þer none oþer beste but I
Þat may plese þat hy King?

Habraham.
Nay, son, to me þou hast do no trespas,
But þou hast my blessing in euery place;
But I may not forfet þat Lordes grace,
Þat al þing haþe me sent.
For and it shuld be affter me,
I had leuer haue slayne al my bestes þan þe.
But his wille nedys fulfilled most be,
And truly so is myn entent.

Isaac.
Alas, what haue I displesid þis Lord of blisse,
Þat I shal be martyred in þis mysse?
But, gentil fader, wot my modre of þis,
Þat I shal be dede?

Habraham.
She? Mary, son, Crist forbede!
Nay, to telle her it is no nede;
For whan þat euer she knoweþ þis dede,
She wol ete affter but litel brede.

Isaac.
In feiþe, for my moder I dar wel say,
And she had wist of this aray
I had not riden out from her þis day,
But she had riden also.

Habraham.
Ye, son, God most be serued ay,
Þi modre may not haue hir wille all way.
I loue þe as wele as she doþe, in fay,
And ȝit þis dede most be do.

Isaac.
A, fader, þen do of my gowne,
Vngirde me and take hem with you to towne;
For I may not. I falle in swowne,
Deþe haþe enbrasid myn hert.
But on þing, fader, I pray you þus:
Let neuer my moder se my cloþus;
For and she do, withouten othus,
It wol greue her to smert.

Habraham.
A, dere hert, what shal I do by þe?
Wo is me þat shal sle the!
With all my goodes I wold by þe,
And God wold assent þerto.

Isaac.

A, fader, do now what euer ye lyst,
For of my modre, I wot wel, I shal be myst.
Many a tyme haþ she me clipt and kyst,
But farewel nowe, for þat is do.

She was wont to calle me hir tresoure and hir store;
But farewel now, she shal no more.
Here I shal be dede and wot neuer wherefore,
Saue þat God most haue his wille.
Fader, shal my hed of also?

Habraham.
Ye, forsoþe, son, þat most nedis be do.
Alas, goode hert, þat me is wo
Þat euer I shuld þe þus spille!

Isaac.
Þen, fader, bynde myne handes and my legges fast,
And yeue me a gret stroke, þat my peynes were past;
For last I shrinke I am riȝt sore agast,
And þan ye wol smyte me in a noþer place;
Then is my peyne so moche the more.
A, soffte, gentil fader; ye bynde me sore.

Habraham.
A, dere hert, wo is me therefore,
My mynde is worse than evyr it was.

Isaac.
A, fadir, ley me downe sofft and feyre
And haue ido nowe, and sle youre eyre.
For I am hampred and in dispeyre
And almost at my lives ende.

Habraham.

A, fayre hert-rote, leue þi crye!
Þi sore langage goþe myne hert ful nye.
Þer is no man þerfore so wo as I,
For here shal I sle my frende.

Þe hye Lord bad me to do þis dede,
But my hert gruccheþ, so God me spede,
My blode aborreþ to se my son blede,
For all on blode it is.

Alas, þat my hert is wondre sore,
For I am now riȝt olde and hore;
But God haþe chose þe for his owne store
In counfor of al my mys,

And to be offerd to hym þat is Lord an hye.
And þerfore, son, take it pacientlye.
Parauenture in batayle or oþer myschef þou myȝtest dye,
Or ellis in anoþer vngoodely veniaunce.

Isaac.
Now, fader, þen siþe it is so,
With al my hert I assent þerto.
Strecche out my nek, anon haue do,
And put me out of penaunce.

Habraham.
Now kisse me furst, hert-rote;
Now ly downe, strecche out þi þrote!
This takeþ me ful nye, God wote,
Goode Lord, to do þi plesaunce!

Et extendit manum ut inmolaret eum et dicit angelus:
Angelus.
Habraham, leue of and do not smyte;
Withdrawe þyn hond, it is Goddes wille!
Take vp Isaac, þi son so whyte,
For God wol not þat þou hym spille.
He seeþe þat þou art redy for to fulfille
His comaundement, in wele and wo;
And þerfore now he sent me the tylle
And bad þat Isaac shuld not be sacrified so.
And as for þi sacrifise,
Turne þe and take þat wedyr there,
And sacrifye hym on þat awtere,
And loke þat Isaac haue no dere,
I charge þe in all wise.

Habraham.
A, sufferen Lord, þi wille be fulfilled
In hevyn, in erþe, in watyr and clay!
And Lord, I þank þe þat Isaac is not killed.
Now, Lord, I know wele þou dydest but asay
What I wold sey þerto, ouþer ye or nay.
Þou knowest myne hert now, and so þou didest afore;
Haddest not sent þyn aungil, Isaac had died þis day.

But, goode Lord, saue þi plesaunce, þis pref was riȝt sore,
But ȝit I þanke þe hye
Þat I haue my sones lyve.
Gawe, son, do on þi cloþes blyve,
And let not þi moder wete of þis stryve,
I pray þe, son, hertly.

Deus.

Habraham, loke vp and herkyn to me.
Siþe þou woldest haue done þat I charged þe,
And sparedist not to sle Isaac, þi son so fre,
The chef tresoure that thow haste,
Be myn owne self I swere certeyn,
Þi goode wille I shal quyte ayeyn:
Þat shal be worship vnto you tweyn
While þe world shal last.

For þou sparedist not þi son for me.
Go and novmbre þe gravel in þe see,
Ouþer motes in þe sunne, and it wol be
By any estimacion;
And as þik as gravel in þe see doþe ly,
As þik þy sede shal multiply,
And oon shal be borne of þi progeny
Þat to all shal cause saluacion.

Habraham.

A, lord, ithanked euer be thy myght,
By tyme, by tyde, by day and nyght.
Now Isaac, son, let vs hens dight
To oure horses and oure men.
Gawe! þei ben here fast by.
Hey, sirs! bring þens oure horses in hy
And let vs lepe vp here lightly,
Fast þat we were hen.

Lepe vp, son, and fast haue ido.

Isaac.
All redy, fadre, I am here, lo;
Ye shal not be let whan euer ye go.
Mi modre I wolde fayne se.
And ȝit, that owre I sawe þis day!
I wend I shuld haue gone my way.

Habraham.
Ye, blessid be þat Lord þat so can a say
His servaund in euery degré!

Et equitat versus Saram et dicit Sara:
Sara.
A, welcom souereigne, withouten doute;
How haue ye fared whils ye haue ben oute?
And, Isaac, son, in all þis rowte?
Hertly welcome home be ye!

Habraham.

Gramercy, wif, fayre most you befalle.
Com þens, wif, out of youre halle,
And let vs go walke and I wol telle you alle,
How God haþe sped þis day with me.

Wif, I went for to sacrifye;
But how trowe you, telle me verylye?

Sara.
Forsoþe, souereigne, I wot not I,
Parauenture som quyk best?

Habraham.

Quyk? Ye forsoþe, quyk it was!
As wel I may tel you al þe case
As anoþer þat was in þe same place,
For I wote wel it wol be wist.

Almighty God, þat sitteth on hye,
Bad me take Isaac, þi son, þerbye
And smyte of his hed and bren hym veralye,
Aboue vpon yondre hille.
And when I had made fyre and smoke,
And drowe my knyf to yeve hym a stroke,
An aungel cam and my wille broke,
And seid oure Lord alowed my wylle.

Sara.
Alas, all þen had gone to wrake!
Wold ye haue slayne my son Isaac?
Nay, þan al my ioy had me forsake!
Alas, where was your mynde?

Habraham.

My mynde? Vpon þe goode Lord on hy!
Nay, and he bid me, trust it verayly,
Þouȝ it had be þiself and I,
It shuld not haue ben left behynde.

God gave hym betwix vs tweyne,
And now he asked hym of vs ageyne.
Shuld I say nay? Nay, in certeyne,
Not for al þe world wide.

Now he knoweþ my hert verayly;
Isaac haþe his blessing and also I,
And haþe blessid also all oure progeny,
For euer to abide.

Sara.
Now blessid be þat Lorde souereigne
Þat so likeþ to say to you tweyne;
And what þat euer he lust, I say not þeragayne,
But his wille be fulfilled.

[Habraham.]

Isaac haþe no harme, but in maner I was sory;
And ȝit I haue wonne his love truly.
And euermore, goode Lord, gramercy
Þat my childe is not kylled.

Now ye þat haue sene þis aray,
I warne you all, boþe nyȝt and day,
What God comaundeþ say not nay,
For ye shal not lese þerby.

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